


No Time Left to Lose

by LittleLalaith



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP without Porn, Public Sex, Reunion Sex, Reunions, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLalaith/pseuds/LittleLalaith
Summary: When Eddie and Richie are reunited in Derry, their long-lost love is rekindled. Unfortunately, patience had never been either of their strong points... and there's a bathroom right there.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 153





	No Time Left to Lose

The moment Richie Tozier stepped into the Jade of the Orient, he knew that he was fucked. Memories had been returning to him slowly over the course of the night, fuzzy and distant, but the weird part was that the memories weren't just abstract images or half-remembered moments. He was remembering certain feelings too. He remembered feeling something that could only have been love, sometime during his teens; he remembered a time after that love where his world had been consumed by constant heartache, and then numbness as the memory left him. He remembered early crushes, both male and female, the shame that had accompanied both desires. He remembered Bev at the Quarry, the way the rest of the Losers had lost their minds over the inclusion of a girl to the group, but he couldn't quite line that memory up with the love-lorn feeling that had settled in his chest. 

Even as he greeted Bev and Ben outside, he felt oddly detached, disappointed. As though something was missing. 

He had to admit, they had both gotten hot... like, supermodel hot, which gave his poor bisexual heart (and dick) a thrill, but something was definitely missing. It wasn't until he had followed them into the restaurant and turned the corner to find Bill, Mike and Eddie that everything clicked into place. 

Eddie. 

He was older now (obviously), but there was no denying that this agitated fashion disaster was his Spaghetti Man. His puppyish brown eyes seemed impossibly deep, like you might fall in if you looked into them for too long; his hair kept neat and tidy, just as it always had been when they were younger... But a memory flashed over his eyes, of Eddie with tousled hair, the colour high in his cheeks, bare shoulders... before he could capture the thought, it vanished, leaving his heart pounding an irregular tattoo in his chest. Needing to break the tension, Richie reached for a little felted mallet and struck it against the decorative gong, needing to hide behind that clown-faced persona that had protected him all his life. 

Richie watched as Eddie's gaze turned from Bill - Bill, who Eddie had always idolised when they were kids, who Richie remembered being wildly jealous of until they were somewhere in their mid-teens - and took in the sight of the trio at the archway. Richie watched Eddie's gaze flicker over Bev, stopping for a slower review of Ben (and Richie could hardly blame him, the dude looked like every Norwegian swimsuit model ever to grace the face of the earth), and then freezing on Richie. It was impossible to read his expression; shock, confusion, admiration, disgust? Richie couldn't tell. But he smiled and raised an awkward hand in greeting. 

"Hey Bill, Mike...Eds..." he greeted, accepting Mike's offer of a hug and following across to Bill. As he reached Eddie, he hesitated, arms hanging half-mast as he tried to figure out whether it was ok. A part of him reasoned that Eddie had always been a germ freak and he didn't want to upset him. But he knew that there was more to it than that. He needed to know whether Eddie remembered things too… whether it would change the way they interacted, even now, even after so many years apart. 

Eddie gave him that oh-so-familiar 'disapproval' face but stepped into the hug, squeezing him a little tighter than the others had. "Don't call me Eds, you know I hate that."

Richie grinned and felt some of his childish vitality bubbling up in his chest. He held Eddie tight, refusing to let go even as the shorter man tried to step away. Swinging him in a small circle, he made a melodramatic show of rubbing his cheek on Eddie's hair and treating him like a puppy in one of those early morning cartoons where a child smothers the poor creature with affection. It was mostly for show, but the sentiment was real. "Aw, you know I can't help myself Spaghetti. You're just so cute, cute cute!"

Eddie squirmed, managing to wriggle his way out from Richie's arms and taking a moment to adjust his clothing. Richie noted that he wasn't angry, despite the silliness. Eddie had never really been angry with him for his shenanigans, even when he was overly boisterous or when his voices got them into trouble. He would complain, sure, or he might give Richie an irritated little pout - like the one he was wearing now - but he had never really gotten cross with Richie for... well, for being Richie. 

"Alright, alright. That's enough. Looks like you haven't exactly grown up over the last couple of decades, huh?" Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smirking. Game on. 

Richie shrugged and placed his chin on the backs of his hands, in a 'who me?' gesture. "What can I say, Eds? I'm young at heart."

"I hate to b-break up the touching reunion, b-b-but how about we all get seated so that we can eat. I d-don't know about you but I'm starving after the long d-d-drive," Bill interjected, naturally slipping back into the role of group leader, without even needing to try.

Eddie nodded and took a seat, picking a place next to Ben and leaving a space open beside him. Richie wasn't sure whether it had been intentional, but he'd never been one to question providence. He slipped into the seat and reviewed the menu, sneaking side-glances at his childhood best friend and.... what? Longest standing crush? He could remember those longing glances now, the way he had scolded himself for following so close to Eddie when they explored the Barrens, the intricate rituals he had constructed to allow himself to brush his thigh against Eddie's when they sat together, the way he had started play fights just so he could press himself against his best friend... The memory was bitter sweet. Derry had never been the height of the LGBTQIA+ Support Board, and he had been desperate to wish away the feelings he'd had for Eddie when they were growing up.

But something had changed, hadn't it? The memories danced on the edge of his mind, just a little too far away for him to get a good look. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered coming to terms with those feelings and he remembered exploring with someone...with Eddie? Maybe, although that might have been wishful thinking. 

"So, what has the great Trashmouth Tozier been up to in recent years?" Eddie asked, snapping Richie out of his reverie.

"For serious? You mean, you don't know?" Richie asked, a little wounded that Eddie hadn't seen any of his shows. Sure, he was no celebrity superstar, but he liked to think that he was something of a household name after his stint with the Apollo and his 'Beep Beep Richie' tour. "I've been up in the spotlight, Spaghetti Man. Spreading joy and laughter wherever I turn."

Bev jumped in to congratulate Richie and rib him a little about his brand of humour, but it was Eddie's quiet look of pride that really stroked his ego. As they went around the table, Richie was surprised to hear that they had all done so well; Bill as a wildly successful horror writer, Bev's high-end fashion line, Ben's architecture... He knew that Mike had never left Derry, so he wasn't surprised to hear that he had contented himself with being a librarian, although it did make Richie wonder what had happened to the old farm. As attention passed around to Eddie, Richie expected him to say something grand; something to match the success of the other Losers who had left Derry.

"I'm a Risk Analyst," came the oddly smug response and Richie couldn't help himself. He teased... not because he wanted to be cruel but because he knew that the Eddie he'd grown up with could have achieved so much more. He could have been a surgeon, or a pharmacist. A risk analyst seemed so... safe. But he supposed it made sense. Eddie had spent half of his childhood weighing up the dangers of each activity the Losers did, judging the moods of his mother and finding the safest way to get around her strict rules. The job suited him, but Richie knew that he could have had more if he didn't play so safe. So he teased. 

Before he could say anything more, it happened. 

"Fuck you," Eddie bit back, and Richie stifled his laughter. He recognised that tone, hovering somewhere directly between sulky and irritated, but he wasn't really mad. If he was mad, he would have started ranting about how it was a perfectly good career with great perks and it was better than being some dumb clown who depended on people having a poor sense of humour in order to cash his paycheck. At least, the old Eddie would have, and Richie had a sneaking suspicion that the new Eddie hadn't strayed far from his roots. So Richie did what any reasonable friend would do when they had offended their bestest friend in the whole wide world. He fought back. 

"Fuck you!" he announced, watching his victory unfold in Eddie's features. The blink of surprise, the way his lips tightened in an effort to hold back a smile. He remembered the games they would play with each other, the unspoken rules of their banter. And christ, Richie had missed it. He missed Eddie's sharp tongue, his brutal sense of humour. He missed having someone to bounce off, someone he knew would keep him in line without ruining his fun. Because Eddie knew where the line was, and he knew how far Richie could go over that line before it became an issue. And in return, Richie knew that Eddie's harsh words held no real venom, that he was peacocking his anger to protect himself, to be taken seriously despite his size and ‘medical issues’. Unfortunately for him, Richie didn't do 'serious'.

The evening continued that way for a while, all the Losers catching up and talking about the significant events in each of their lives; talking about spouses, successful business deals, hopes for the future. Each time Eddie spoke, Richie goaded him, and each time he was rewarded with more physical responses. A middle finger, a slap across his arm, a careful shove. Intricate rituals. And Richie knew each next step like he'd done it a thousand times. 

As Eddie was chatting to Ben about his latest construction, Richie slowly and obviously reached over to steal one of his dumplings. Quick as lightning, Eddie's hand was enclosed around his wrist, their faces close and...

He remembered Eddie when he was around 18 years old, just before he left Derry with his Mom to go and live with his aunt. He remembered Eddie's hand on his wrists as they were pinned above his head, the other roaming elsewhere, lips against Richie's, drinking in the sounds he made with every touch. He remembered how Eddie had felt against his skin, the surprising strength of his partner despite his size. Not just physical strength either, but the kind of strength that had made Richie feel safe. The strength to reach out and risk everything for the chance to live happily, to stop the teasing and get on with more intimate things. Richie remembered feeling safe beneath Eddie, like he was being seen for the first time - really seen. And all these years later, he could sense that strength in Eddie renewed.

For a long moment, Richie was unable to draw his gaze away, and it seemed that Eddie was having the same problem. Richie could see the rise in colour in his cheeks, just a little too sudden to be the effect of the beer. Dark, brown eyes flicked restlessly down to Richie's lips, back to his eyes, and Richie could see the tip of his pink tongue brushing nervously - seductively- along his bottom lip. 

Eddie let go of his wrist and cleared his throat, excusing himself before heading in the direction of the bathroom. Richie dropped the dumpling, trying to settle the flurry of emotions that were raging in his chest. He almost missed it. It was only by chance that he turned to make sure Eddie was alright, and caught the way he lingered near the archway, offering a silent invitation. Richie's heart skipped a beat, eagerness broiling in his veins as he tried to wait an inconspicuous amount of time before following. In all honesty, it probably hadn't been subtle at all. He knew that. But he hoped that the other Losers might not remember just yet, might just think that Richie needed the bathroom too. 

Of course, Mike would remember. But he doubted that Mike would tell. Not yet. 

Thankfully, the Jade of the Orient only had two small, single bathrooms - one for women and one for men (not the most progressive of places, Richie thought absently, remembering that he was in Derry now, land of bigots, racists and homophobes). He knocked on the men's door quietly, hoping to Christ that he hadn't misread the situation. Before he could panic, the door creaked open and Richie was allowed inside. He suddenly felt self-conscious, uncertain. He hadn't felt like this since he had been in his teens, slowly learning to open up and trust Eddie, to allow himself a moment of vulnerability. It had been a long time, and he was out of practice. 

Thankfully, Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them. 

Locking the door, Eddie looked up at Richie, dark eyes drinking him in. "Do you remember?"

Richie nodded dumbly, his heart hammering in his chest. He was so close, his subtle cologne filling the minimal space between them. Richie wanted to reach out and touch him, to run fingers through his hair and pull him close. He wanted to taste him. Richie let out a small sound of surprise as Eddie surged forward, breaking through that fragile wall between them and forcing Richie back against a wall, pinning him in with his body. The fire was infectious and Richie slipped his free arm around his childhood sweetheart, meeting his lips with a desperate, frenzied need. 

He could taste the beer on Eddie's tongue, but beneath it was a perfectly unique sweetness that was 'Eddie'. His mouth felt so familiar against Richie's, lips pressed to his and parting, inviting his tongue into the play. Richie groaned softly and was immediately reprimanded with a quiet hush, Eddie's hands pressing to his chest. "If we're going to do this, you have to be quiet."

Richie nodded again, muttering a quick apology before guiding Eddie back to him, claiming his mouth. He wanted this, needed it, and he didn't want to blow his chances by giving them away. He focused on staying quiet, on reacquainting himself with every square inch of Eddie's body. His clumsy hands spanned Eddie's waist, slipping up under the fabric of his polo shirt and tracing the surprisingly sculpted stomach beneath. 

"Holy shit, you've been holding out on me, Spaghetti," Richie murmured, careful to keep his voice low. 

Eddie blushed deeper, his hands kneading and gripping at Richie's hips and waist, making the broader man feel suddenly huge by comparison. Eddie had always been smaller than him when it came to height, but weight was another thing entirely. "Sorry, Eddie. Guess I'm not the stick-insect I used to be..."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You got hot," Eddie responded immediately, his voice husky with desire. And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing in the world. Richie squirmed a little, relaxing into Eddie's touch as he ran soft hands over Richie's stomach, his chest, brushing over a nipple and making his gasp. "I mean, fuck. When you walked into the Jade, I thought I was gonna jump you right there in front of everyone."

"Wait, what?" Richie laughed, but Eddie's body was pressed firm to his own and he could feel his sweetheart's erection pressing into his thigh. Shit, Eddie meant it. Whatever Richie thought of his own body, apparently Eddie wanted him. And that worked out, coz Richie wanted this too. "You want me, huh? Right here? In the bathroom?"

Eddie winced and shook his head, giving an almost imperceptible growl against Richie's shoulder. "Can we just pretend this isn't a germ infested bathroom please?"

Richie smirked and pulled him into another kiss. "Sure thing, Eds. And I think I know how I can keep you distracted."

Turning them sharply, Richie pinned Eddie to the wall and pressed close, boxing him in. A small sound escaped Eddie's throat before he could stop it and Richie smirked, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along his throat. "Shh, you gotta be quiet, Eds. Otherwise someone will interrupt us before we're finished." 

"Don't call me-" Eddie started, but the words melted into a silent gasp as Richie's palm stroked him firmly through his slacks. Eddie's hands flew to Richie's shoulders, bracing himself and keeping himself steady as his long-distant partner slipped a hand into his pants and stroked him slowly. 

A stream of memories came back to Richie in a wave, countless snapshots of times they'd fooled around when they were younger. He remembered the sounds Eddie had made, the way his body had felt, his insatiable appetite. Richie kissed a trail down his throat, nipping at his clothed shoulder before sinking to his knees. And fuck he was getting too old for this, but he didn't care. He wanted this. 

"You want me to keep quiet, you better give me something to do with my mouth..." Richie reasoned, looking up to Eddie for permission before working his belt open. Eddie's slight nod said enough, and the way he brought a clenched fist to his mouth as a way of quieting himself down was just damn sinful. It was such a familiar gesture, such an intimate memory. 

He could remember Eddie doing the exact same thing when they were younger, trying to keep himself silent so that his eagle-eyed mother wouldn't hear them. So many secret exchanges, so many hidden meetings and stolen moments. Even now, reunited as adults, they were hiding. But maybe they could change that now, maybe they could walk out of Derry hand in hand this time. The thought settled in his chest like a warm burst of energy, filling him with a hope that he hadn't felt for decades.

"Richie..." Eddie whispered, one hand sinking into Richie's thick hair and gripping lightly. And fuck that felt good. 

Working Eddie's pants and boxers down, Richie licked a broad stripe along the underside of his cock, smirking a little at the choked gasp it earned. It had been a hot minute since he'd done something like this, and he wasn't entirely sure whether he was doing it well, but Eddie's soft sounds and the gentle squeezes against his shoulder were all the encouragement Richie needed. He tried to relax his jaw, taking as much into his mouth as he could, his hand working the remaining length in a mirrored motion to his lips. It didn't take long to find a good rhythm, his tongue passing sweeps over the tip every so often, trying his best to give Eddie what he needed. After a little while, Eddie's grip in his hair tightened and Richie groaned, earning another gasp from Eddie. 

"Fuck, Richie..." Eddie gasped, his voice scratchy with the need to be quiet. "I'm gonna cum."

Richie groaned softly, keeping up his steady pace and bracing his grip against Eddie's hips. He kept his eyes fixed on Eddie, the way his expression softened and pinched with pleasure, his mouth hanging open around silent moans. After a few more seconds, Eddie tensed, hips bucking slightly as his climax tore through him. Richie forced himself to relax, to collect Eddie's spend on his tongue before reaching for a paper towel and tidying himself up. He was rock hard now, his cock pressing uncomfortably into the crotch of his jeans, but he waited for Eddie to come down from his high; peppering kisses along his throat and cheek to reassure him as he grounded himself again.

"Holy shit, that felt so good," Eddie praised, and Richie could feel his cheeks burning. He'd always been a sucker for praise, especially when it was coming from Eddie. "After that, I reckon you get a reward."

"Oh yeah?" Richie grinned, stealing a kiss before letting Eddie go on. He suspected that Eddie wouldn't want to use his mouth in the same way Richie had, this discomfort with germs and personal hygiene being well-known; but there were other things that he might agree to do. 

"You get a choice, Richie. Do you want my hands or my thighs?"

The question didn't quite register properly in Richie's mind at first. He just stared at his lover, trying to work out how the latter option would even wor- oh! 

Oh.

"Thighs," Richie responded hastily, practically whimpering as Eddie claimed his lips again. 

"Alright, then hold on a minute," Eddie instructed.

Using the nearby sink, Eddie cleaned himself off and allowed excess soap and water to trail down along his inner thighs. He braced his forearm on the edge of the sink, one hand spreading the make-shift lube over his pale skin. Richie undid his own belt, idly pumping himself with one fist as he watched. 

"I'm ready," Eddie breathed, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "Come and show me what you've got."

Richie pressed close, an arm circling around Eddie's waist and holding him steady as he guided his cock into the slick, warm pressure between Eddie's thighs. Eddie sighed softly, grinding his hips back into Richie and causing his partner to choke back a moan. Fuck, this felt good. After nothing more than his own hands for the last few years, it felt amazing to share human contact again. But more than that, it felt good to have Eddie beneath him. To have Eddie's scent and warmth surrounding him, to hear his whispered reassurances and encouragement. 

It was easy to lose himself to the moment, to fuck Eddie's thighs with a firm, desperate pace. Richie braced a hand against the mirror and guided Eddie's hips back against his own with the other, desperately trying not to let his groans and whines spill over his tongue. As he got close, he bit down lightly against Eddie's shoulder, muffling himself in the fabric of his shirt. 

"That's it, Richie. Cum for me," Eddie encouraged, a hand reaching back to grip at Richie's thigh. "Show me how good you feel."

It didn't take long for Richie to hit his climax, blowing his load against the backs of Eddie's thighs before bracing himself against his lover's back, breathing him in as the aftershock of his orgasm worked its way through him. 

"Holy fuck..." Richie panted, shaking slightly. 

Carefully, Eddie turned and held Richie close against him; he planted kisses along his temple and cheek, stroking his side as the comedian slowly brought himself back to reality. 

"You still got it, Tozier," Eddie winked, stealing another kiss before breaking away to get himself cleaned and dried off. 

"Speak for yourself," Richie purred, trying to make himself look presentable. "Do you think the others will have noticed that we're both gone?"

"Maybe... but they're gonna have to get used to the idea," Eddie shrugged, cupping Richie's cheek. "You don't get to make me feel like that and disappear again. I don't want to go back home without you..."

Richie's heart tripped in his chest and he grinned, pulling Eddie into his arms and holding him close. "I feel the same way."

"Good... maybe we can talk about this later? Back at the hotel?"

"Sure," Richie grinned. 

With one more kiss, the pair left the bathroom and made their way back towards the table. Regardless of what the other Loser's thought, Richie was Eddie's again, and Eddie was his. He could face whatever happened in this god-forsaken town, so long as he had his Spaghetti Man at his side.


End file.
